Gravity
by Cosmic Mewtwo
Summary: After a sudden malfunction, Vegeta finds himself trapped in the gravity room with no way to get out-- and with Bulma as his only company. Soon, Vegeta begins to fall under the pull of a powerfully attractive force, and it just might not be the gravity...


So. This is my first Dragonball Z fanfic. Ever. To any of my regular readers who are used to my Pokemon fan fiction and are wildly confused right now, blame this one on my boyfriend. (He recently convinced me to watch the whole DBZ series, during which I became a raging Vegeta fan girl. Naturally.)

Anyway. I've been meaning to write some sort of Vegeta/Bulma thing for a little while, particularly something concerning the "mysterious three years," so, here were are. This particular story idea has been bothering me for awhile, so I decided to just get it out of my system as a one shot. It kind of got hijacked by the characters half-way through, so nothing turned out as I expected, but, eh. It happens. And not going to lie, this nearly turned into a lemon towards the end, but it was getting so bloody long at that point that I had to just find a way to end it.

And one last note: I couldn't decide whether to call this story "Gravity" or "9.81" out of sheer nerdiness. What do you think?

But no matter, I've rambled enough. Enjoy, and feel free to review with anything at all.

-Cosmic

* * *

Gravity

* * *

It was early morning at Capsule Corps., and already the hot, mid-summer air was thick and smothering. A heat wave had been choking the city for days now, and today would be another unproductive one under the abnormal blast of hot weather.

Vegeta, however, hardly seemed to notice the heat as he walked across the Briefs' lawn towards the Gravity Chamber. He had a strict routine to follow, and today was no exception, no matter how high the mercury might climb. He intended to seclude himself in the gravity room all day and train to the point of exhaustion, emerging only for meals. It was a harsh regime by human standards, but he of course was the Saiyan Prince, and this was just routine to him. This morning in particular he was eager to resume training; the woman had informed him the previous evening that she had upgraded the GR, enhancing its capabilities and installing new training devices.

_Just perfect_. Sometimes the blue-haired nitwit wasn't so useless after all.

Vegeta grinned smugly as keyed in the passcode for the GR, and the door slid open to allow him access. He walked inside, the door hissing shut behind him, and relished the feeling of the cool air inside the large, dome-shaped room. Bulma had claimed that the machine was now capable of generating a gravitational field twice of what it previously was, and the idea of doubling the pace of his training appealed greatly to Vegeta. After all, any boost in his training, no matter how small, would bring him just a little bit closer to surpassing Kakarott.

That thought alone filled Vegeta with the familiar rage that fuelled his training everyday. Without hesitation, he crossed the floor to the computer console.

He thought carefully for a moment, wondering how far he should push himself today. _Hmm… well maybe I'll start at 300 G, just as a warm-up…_

But just as he went to key in the appropriate settings, the door to the GR opened without warning.

Vegeta frowned and turned slightly, squinting against the flood of sunlight pouring in. He sighed angrily when he saw the source of his intrusion.

_Oh, fantastic. It's the woman. This is _just _the interruption I need to start my day. . ._

Bulma stood at the door of the GR clad in denim shorts and a small tank top, her hair unruly and loosely tied up, and a toolkit of some sort in herhands. And, Vegeta noticed, her face was contorted into the usual look of unbridled rage. He wondered if she would even recognizable without it.

"What in fresh hell are you doing here, woman?" Vegeta growled, turning away from the console with his arms firmly crossed over his chest. "What part of 'leave me alone while I train, or god help me, I will crush you" don't you understand?"

"Don't you start!" Bulma snapped, stepping into the GR and slamming the button beside the door to close it. "I told you last night—_I told you_— that I upgraded the GR's programming, but that I had to come to inspect it before you tried any of the new features! Because if there is _one_ thing wrong with this stupid machine, one stupid bit of damage that you've done to it that you haven't told me about, the whole thing will break, and then I'll have to listen to you moan for a _week _while I fix it!"

Vegeta scoffed. "You told me no such thing!"

At this point, Bulma dropped her toolkit to the floor, and her hands went to her hips. "Yes I did! I said all of that last night while you were eating dinner, but clearly _Your Majesty _was too wrapped up in himself to pay any attention! _Not _that I'm the least bit surprised…"

Vegeta felt a flare of anger surge hotly within him. As usual, it took some degree of self-discipline to resist vaporizing Bulma on the spot; so many times since coming to Earth he had wanted to kill her more than anyone else he had encountered on this planet, but he knew very well that his training would be hampered without her aid.

"Listen, you repulsive wench— don't you _ever _use my royal title sarcastically again, or I guarantee you that I will—"

"—kill me, blow up the planet, kick puppies, whatever," muttered Bulma. "Yeah. I get it. You're the big, scary Prince of Saiyans. Can we skip the death threat part, just for today? It's so hot I can barely think, and I really just don't have the energy to argue with you right now."

Vegeta could only stare at the woman, his mouth moving wordlessly as he struggled to find words to express his rage. How could this woman have the gall, the sheer _attitude, _to address him like that? _Who did she think she was?_

Vegeta finally settled on a snarl, and crossed his arms more tightly. "Ugh, very well_,_" he hissed. "If you simply _must _fiddle with your machine, how long is it going to take? You do realize that _some _of us have a training schedule to follow? You know, so that _someone _can protect this wretched planet from a couple of overpowered robots that are supposedly going to kill us all in a few years?"

Bulma seemingly paid no attention to his sarcasm, and brushed by him. "It shouldn't take long. Just sit down for a second, or go outside. Chill out, you know? It will do wonders for your blood pressure."

"Hnn." Vegeta grunted, and turned away. He leaned against the wall of the GR, arms still crossed, and watched Bulma as she bent down to examine the GR's main console. He briefly considered going outside for a breath of fresh air, but decided that the woman might work faster if he glared steadily at her.

Bulma, however, didn't even notice Vegeta. She had wrenched the console open and was now on her hands and knees, her head buried in the complex system of wires and resistors that were contained within. She set about navigating through the complicated tangle, rewiring and rearranging things as she went, all the while muttering to herself.

Vegeta was looking up at the ceiling, thoroughly irritated from listening to Bulma's shuffling about in the console. At one point, the woman began to hum an annoying tune as she worked, and Vegeta snapped his head in her direction to promptly tell her to shut up. However, as he looked at the woman, he felt his words die inexplicably in his throat.

Something about the sight before him caught Vegeta off-guard. He could only see Bulma's legs and part of her lower back now that she had crawled deeply into the machine, but… suddenly his mind spun.

Suddenly, the hot, thick air— which he had barely noticed before— weighed upon him as if the gravity generator had been turned on full force. His gaze was inexplicably drawn to the woman's long creamy legs, and the way they ended in such pleasing curves barely concealed by her denim cutoffs, the way her tank top hiked up on her spine to reveal the tempting dip of her lower back, the slight glisten of sweat on her skin, the— the—-

Vegeta felt his face burn with a hot flush. He opened his mouth to try and scold the woman again, but found himself suffocated. What the hell was the matter with him? He couldn't begin to understand how a creature so annoying suddenly held him in a bizarre trance.

But Bulma continued to hum, becoming more off-tune with every note, and Vegeta finally felt himself released from the spell.

"Woman, would you cease humming that hideous tune?!"

Bulma emerged from the console and rose to her knees, her hands finding a place on her hips.

"Well, _excuse me_, Vegeta," she said with a potent glare. "You know, a nice "please" doesn't hurt every now and then. If you want to be really ambitious, you could even throw in a "thank you!""

"Hn."

Bulma closed her eyes and turned away from Vegeta, mustering what Vegeta was sure she thought was a haughty expression. She vanished again into the console, with nothing but her lower body left visible. Vegeta felt his gaze drawn again to her infuriatingly tiny shorts.

"Well why don't you sing a song?" she suggested.

Vegeta rose an eyebrow.

"…you can't be serious."

"Well, if my singing is so awful, why don't you do better? You Saiyans must have had songs and music and stuff on your planet, didn't you? Angry military marches, maybe? A nice group chant about blowing things up?"

"I'm not singing you a damn song. Do I look like a musician to you?"

"I dunno, kinda. Lots of Earthling musicians have pretty ridiculous hair. Seriously, do you style that? Like, with gel? Because you have an impressive amount of volume, I'm actually kind of jealous."

Vegeta could almost feel himself turning purple.

"Don't you talk to _me _about ridiculous hair, woman! Have you looked at yourself lately?!

In all my travels— in all of the strangest, most outlandish corners of the galaxy— I have _never _seen hair or fur in a shade of blue that bizarre!"

At this point, Bulma finally emerged from the console, dragging her toolkit with her. She stood up and brushed her clothing off. As she did, Vegeta couldn't help but notice the top of her tank-top pulling down slightly, just revealing the top of some other ample curves that he had missed before. He felt the room growing hotter still. Didn't this woman know how to dress herself in something… a little more substantial?

"Why thank you, Vegeta, I'll take that as a compliment," said Bulma with a wink, tossing her hair back. It was dishevelled and unkempt today, weighed down by the sheer, summer heat, but it gave her vivid locks a certain wildness that usually wasn't there. It was a strangely enticing look, and Vegeta felt an inexplicable fury just staring at her. "It's nice to know I'm the only girl in the cosmos with hair like this."

Vegeta grunted in response. "Whatever. Are you done?"

"Nope. Just checked the console, but it looks fine. I'm going to need to check the hull, though, just to make sure there aren't any weak spots I've missed that need reinforcing. You don't want to turn this thing up to 1000 G only to have it crumple like a paper cup. And trust me, I know you'll try it. "

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Just hurry up, will you?"

"Patience, Vegeta. _Learn it._"

Vegeta seethed silently against the wall while Bulma crossed to the opposite side of the room. There she began to inspect the very walls of the large machine that contained them.

Vegeta cursed under his breath as the woman went about her work. He couldn't stand around all day wasting his time just because she was slow; what kind of nerve did the woman have, thinking she could just waste his time, disrupt his schedule like this? Never had he encountered someone so much weaker than him, and yet so stupidly bold. How had she managed to survive this long with an attitude like that?

But before he could worry about the matter further, Bulma spoke again.

"Ohh, you're not going to like this…"

"What?" said Vegeta, his arms uncrossing. "What is it now?"

"There's a pretty sizeable dent in one of the panels here. It might be nothing, but I'm worried that this one flaw could compromise the whole gravity room if you turn it up too high, or hit it just a little too hard."

"So?" said Vegeta, advancing toward her. "What does that mean?"

"I'm going to have to replace it. It's probably going to take me an hour or so."

"An hour?" he exclaimed. "I don't have free hours that I can just toss away, woman! You'll have to fix it faster than that!"

Bulma spun around, and her eyes were narrowed into a fiery glare.

"Listen, you," she hissed. "First off, the name's Bulma, not _woman_—you should know that by now. And second, I'm working as fast as I can! Trust me, I would much rather be in my pool right now, or in my nice, air-conditioned lab than stuck out here where it's hot and sweaty, in your stupid gravity play-pen!"

Vegeta felt his anger spiking dangerously at Bulma's outburst. He leaned forward to yell at her whatever obscenities came to mind, but as he did, he slammed his hands down on the console.

"Damn it, woman, _I swear to god_, if—"

But Vegeta's threat was cut off by a strange noise that suddenly emitted from the GR. Suddenly, all the lights on the console blinked to darkness, and the rest of the chamber's lights dimmed slightly.

Bulma looked around the room in a near panic, and then to Vegeta. "Vegeta, what did you just do?!"

Vegeta's eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse me? I didn't do anything! You're the one who—"

"No!" Bulma interrupted. "What did you just press on the console?"

"Nothing! What does it matter!"

"Ugh, the keypad!" Bulma cried, pointing to where Vegeta's gloved hand had crashed down on the console. "You must have triggered the emergency shut-down mechanism!"

Vegeta stood up straight, throwing his hands into the air. "What are you harping on about, woman?!"

Bulma leaned in toward him, her hands on her hips, and her face red from a combination of rage and heat. "This whole stupid machine is powered by a nuclear generator—kind of dangerous, if you didn't know— which obviously has an emergency shut-down— _which you just went and activated _by slamming the keypad like that!Normally there's a specific code you have to type in, but— but— oh, damn it!" Bulma kicked the console with her heel in frustration. "You must have short circuited something! You can't just go smashing things in here like a caveman you know, especially with your kind of strength!"

"Hn. I still don't see what the problem is.

"That means that the gravity generator is _down_," explained Bulma, using a tone one might use to explain a concept to a toddler. "And worse, the automated doors have _locked_. _We're stuck in here, Vegeta._ The only way to start this thing up again and get out of here is with a key that's in my lab, which I didn't think we would ever need because I never told you the shut-down code!"

"Well that's the stupidest design blunder I've ever heard," Vegeta muttered. "But it's no matter, I'll just blast the damn door open and you can get this nonsense sorted out."

"Oh, I don't _think _so," Bulma snapped. "If you blast a hole in this machine, it will take me _days _to fix! And I am _not _listening to you whine and moan while I take the rest of the week to fix this stupid thing! I have other things to do, and I don't have time for your bitching!"

Vegeta's hands were nearly shaking as he resisted the urge to snap Bulma's neck. "Well if we can't get out of here, then what the hell do you propose we do!"

"Well, my parents are gone right now, but when they get back, I'll just call my father to go get the key and get us out—"

"…Get back?! Where the hell are they?!"

"They went to the beach for the morning. In case you haven't noticed, it's a million degrees out today. But they'll be back in a few hours, I think."

"The beach! _The beach!" _cried Vegeta, the volume of his voice spiking with disbelief. "_Useless_! So while your idiot parents are lounging in the sand all day, we're just supposed to twiddle our thumbs in here?!"

"Well, I guess so, Vegeta. _No thanks to you_."

"No thanks to _me_? _You're _the one who designed this stupid machine with a nonsensical 'emergency shut-down mechanism,' you idiot woman!"

Bulma's face had turned redder than ever. She stepped toward Vegeta and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Well I don't see _you_ building any gravity generators lately, genius! In fact, all you seem to do is stomp around and break everything, like a stupid ape and—"

Vegeta's eyes flew upon wide as a dangerous rage welled up within him. He slapped Bulma's hand away from him like it was a filthy insect.

"_Don't you _ever_ call me that again, do you understand_!" he snarled. "I am no stupid ape, woman, you—"

"—it's _Bulma!_"

At this point, Vegeta grabbed her by the shoulders. "_Shut up!" _he finally bellowed in her face. "Shut up! Does your mouth _ever _stop?! Has anything intelligent _ever_ come out of it?!"

Bulma glared viciously at him and pushed against his chest. "Let go of me! YOU need to shut up and chill out, Vegeta! Seriously, if you can't keep calm for five minutes, we're going to end up killing each other before we even have a chance to get out of here!"

"Oh, you certainly have that right," Vegeta muttered.

"What did you just say?!"

"Nothing, _Bulma._"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

With that, Bulma slid down the console to sit down on the cool tiles of the GR floor, and leaned her head against the console. Though the GR had included air-conditioning, it had died when the power had, and the room's temperature was already starting to climb. Bulma grabbed at her tank top and tied the side into a knot to expose her midriff and keep her skin a little cooler.

Vegeta watched her out of the corner of her eye, and was painfully aware of the extra few inches of her exposed skin. Her stomach was perfectly toned, and Vegeta couldn't help as his eyes traveled from the soft dip of her navel, down to where her hips curved and disappeared below the tiny stretch of her denim shorts. Such a ridiculous garment, in Vegeta's opinion; it failed at covering just about everything, but left just enough to the imagination to be wildly infuriating. Humans never surprised him in their ability to dress like complete idiots.

A thought occurred to Vegeta to just rip the offending shorts right off her body. The thought surprised him, but he couldn't say it was a totally unpleasant idea. Perhaps get rid of the foolish top while he was at it, see what exactly was under—

"Well this should be exciting," Bulma grumbled from her spot on the floor, interrupting Vegeta's train of thought.

"Hn," he grunted noncommittally. To distract his wandering gaze for a moment, he removed his training gloves and tossed them on top of the console. It didn't look like he'd be needing them for awhile, anyway.

Vegeta slid down to the floor aside Bulma, taking care to keep a respectable amount of distance between them lest she got the idea that he _enjoyed _her company. He sat, too, with his back against the console, one knee bent and arms characteristically crossed over his chest.

"Why are you wearing those clothes?" he blurted.

"Wh—what? What's wrong with these?" said Bulma, sounding genuinely confused.

"Well, it's— they're just—" Vegeta suddenly felt himself flushing, and shook his head. "You know what, never mind. There's no point in trying to make sense of anything you humans do. Clothing included."

"Huh. Like you're one to talk. No offence to your race or whatever, but I've seen what you Saiyans try to pass as fashion. Clingy spandex and bulky armor? I mean, really?"

"Saiyans dress for function and fighting, not something as frivolous as _fashion_," said Vegeta, his voice almost haughty. "But again. Not that you would understand."

Bulma rolled her eyes again, but Vegeta could see her grinning slightly.

"No, _you're_ the one who doesn't understand," she replied. "But maybe you could learn a thing or two." Then the woman's eyes widened, her face lighting up despite the shadows of the room. "Ohhh, I have an idea— I could take you _shopping_! Buy you a new wardrobe! How fun would that be?!"

Vegeta looked at her for a very long moment, one eyebrow inching upwards in disbelief.

"Woman," he said. "I've been to Hell before, and what you're suggesting might actually be worse."

"Oh, come on!" said Bulma, clapping her hands together and leaning toward Vegeta. "You hardly ever get out of this place! I mean, you can't possibly train all day, all the time— one day of shopping couldn't hurt!"

As Bulma leaned towards him, Vegeta couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the front of her shirt, where the ample curves of her chest had suddenly become more prominent beneath the material. She was so close to him that he could nearly feel the heat wafting from her body, and he could barely understand how overheated he suddenly felt as well. Was it really that hot in here without the air conditioner?

Vegeta inhaled deeply and drew his gaze away. He locked his eyes firmly on Bulma's and hoped he wouldn't fall under any more… distractions.

"I— no. Just no," he growled. "The last time you insisted on clothing me, I wound up in some hideous pink excuse for a garment. I am _not _falling for that stunt again, woman."

Bulma leaned away from him, and assumed her position once again with her back against the console. Vegeta felt a strange mix of relief and displeasure as the presence of her body and her heat receded from him.

"Oh, fine then. Suit yourself. But I'm going to find something fun for you to do eventually, and you're not going to get out of it. You're going to train yourself into an early grave, you know, if you never take time to relax."

"Well as long as I'm alive long enough to save this useless planet, I don't see why you care," Vegeta grunted. "Besides, don't you have your own male slave to drag out on stupid excursions with you? Your… I don't know, "boyfriend," you call it?"

Bulma cocked an eyebrow and looked at Vegeta as though he had started speaking Namekian. "Uhh…what are you talking about?"

"You know, the idiot with the scar! Yamcha? Is that not your mate?"

Realization dawned on Bulma's face before she broke out into laughter. But the laughter that escaped from her wasn't the usual joyful, almost melodic sound that Vegeta had come to be familiar with— instead it was a joyless laugh, almost bitter. In fact, it sounded like something that might come out of his own mouth.

"Oh… right. About that," said Bulma, still chucking, but the wry smile on her lips failed to extend to her eyes. "Yamcha isn't my, uh, 'mate,' Vegeta. We haven't been dating for weeks now, in case you haven't noticed."

Vegeta emitted a sound of annoyance. "My apologies— like I follow all the latest drama and gossip you and your insane friends have to offer."

"Well, whatever. It's not important anyway," she muttered. She turned her face away, but as she did, Vegeta caught a glimpse of the dim, sullen expression that had fallen across her face.

The Saiyan felt puzzled. He had never seen the woman look so… subdued. In fact, he had never seen her swing from any mood that wasn't between joyful and shrieking fury. It was a nice change from the latter, of course, but he felt uncomfortable from the sudden change all the same.

"What's the matter?" he asked bluntly. "This hardly seems like something to be upset about. He didn't seem like a particularly suitable male, even by human standards."

Bulma looked towards Vegeta, her gaze suddenly icy. "Well I'm sorry, but it's kind of difficult to celebrate the fact that your boyfriend has been cheating on you behind you're back!" she said, her words spilling out in a frenzied rush, the pitch of her voice climbing on the last few words. "That sort of thing hurts a little, in case you didn't realize!"

Vegeta offered no response, but merely blinked at her. Bulma blushed with sudden embarrassment and clapped her hands over her face.

"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm even telling you this," she said. "Ugh, please just forget I said anything."

"Done," said Vegeta flatly. "Although I could easily have the moron killed, if you're interested."

At this, Bulma couldn't help but smile. Something told her that this was probably Vegeta's idea of being kind.

"No thanks, Veggie. I'd rather no one get killed, if that's all right."

Vegeta's head snapped around to face her, his gaze narrowing dangerously. "What did you just call me!"

Bulma laughed. "Nothing, Veggie. Hey, did you bring any water in here when you came this morning? I'm pretty much going to die from the heat soon. I would kill for a drink."

"Over there," Vegeta grunted, nodding toward a ledge on the wall.

Bulma stood up and trotted past Vegeta toward the water bottle he had motioned toward. Vegeta's eyes once again found distraction in the sight of her long, pale legs passing just inches in front of him, and he felt an inexplicable urge to grab her, see if her limbs felt just as creamy and smooth as they looked, see what they might feel like wrapped around—

_No no no stop thinking, damn it!_

Vegeta's mouth had gone dry, and he had to agree with Bulma's sentiments about how hot the room had become. He didn't know how much longer he could last in here before he would blow up the entire device, how much longer the tension could just build before he had to destroy something, or grab the woman, and—

_NO._

The heat was unbearable at this point. Vegeta sighed in annoyance before removing his shirt and tossing it aside. The extra material was not helping at keeping him cool.

Meanwhile, Bulma had quickly downed half the water bottle, and was wiping her lips clean. Her lips had deepened in colour from the day's heat, had swelled more than normal. Vegeta couldn't understand why he was even noticing this.

"Hey, Vegeta, do you want the rest of this?" Bulma asked, turning around. "I figure you must be pretty thirsty since—"

Bulma stopped midway through her sentence, and merely looked at Vegeta, blinking. "Whoa."

Vegeta crossed his arms over his bare chest and glared at the woman, a little uneasy underneath her sudden, bewildered scrutiny.

"What, woman? What the hell are you looking at?"

"I— well, just you, actually," she said, and Vegeta could see a hint of red creeping into her cheeks. "I just kind of forgot how buff you were."

Vegeta felt something twist within him; it was the same unease as before, but with some sort of heady eagerness rushing through him at the same time. Had the woman just…. _complimented _him? Complimented his physique, of all things? Was he supposed to thank her?

The soft redness that had seeped into the woman's cheeks was now blooming into a fiery blush.

"I— yeah, um…" she mumbled awkwardly. "Water?"

Sitting down beside him again, Bulma stretched out her hand, offering the plastic bottle to Vegeta.

"Please," Vegeta grunted, snatching it from her grasp. He downed the rest of the bottle in little more than one gulp, looking at Bulma from the corner of his eye as he did. She was still watching him with a strange sort of raptness, and Vegeta was confused. Had merely taking his shirt off done this? She had seen him shirtless before, he was certain, his body couldn't possibly a new sight to her— and yet the look in her eyes suggested that she was looking at something entirely new and exotic, interesting and exciting beyond all measure…

Suddenly it struck Vegeta that it was how he had been looking at _her _all day now. Despite the water he had just swallowed, his mouth felt dry.

But before Vegeta could even consider this sudden change in Bulma, rage flitted across her face and her reverie seemed to shatter.

"Hey, way to drink_ all _the water!" she snapped, grabbing the bottle. "That was supposed to last us awhile! We're going to be stuck here in the heat for at least a couple more hours, you know!"

Vegeta felt his anger spiking dramatically, irrationally, so much so that he felt the rage burn through his veins and his power level begin to climb. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was _her, _maybe it was the way she had been staring at him only a moment before only to have her change again like the wind, maybe it was the strange, incredible burning that seared across his skin every time he looked at her today—

"Don't you snap at _me, _woman!" he shouted at her. "We wouldn't be stuck together in this overheated machine rationing our water like prisoners if you hadn't designed such a ridiculous flaw into this machine!"

"It's not a flaw!" Bulma yelled back. "It's a completely sensible safety protocol—"

"Oh yes, so sensible that now we're trapped in here like zoo animals! I haven't met an engineer so stupid since Frieza's idiot scientists!"

Had Bulma been a Saiyan, she probably would have blasted Vegeta at that point. Her eyes narrowed to two fierce slits, emanating a potent rage that was focused upon Vegeta like a laser beam.

"Well you seem pretty damn reliant on my expertise, for someone who thinks I'm so useless! You know what, you can blow up this machine for all I care if you don't want me around to fix it!"

"I am not _reliant _on you!" Vegeta retorted, nearly spluttering on his words. "I rely on no one, woman! I can achieve whatever I want without the help of anyone!"

Bulma crossed her arms, and turned her face away; something in her gesture appeared almost hurt. For a few moments she said nothing, and a dense silence began to fill the room. Where anger had just moments ago crackled between them like flames, it was suddenly doused in the wake of the suffocating quiet. The air became empty and hollow, with nothing between them but an invisible tension.

Vegeta shifted away from her, unable to meet her gaze, when suddenly she murmured something quietly.

"I don't know why you stay here,then, Vegeta."

Vegeta looked at her, unsure he had heard her correctly her voice had been so quiet. She was staring at the far wall, and Vegeta found her expression unreadable. There were many emotions he could read in a heartbeat: terror, rage, despair, pain, satisfaction… but whatever he saw on her face was something he couldn't recognize.

"Because when you can manage to get it right, you're an asset to my training," Vegeta muttered, but his voice sounded strangely hollow, even to him.

He paused for a moment, and then something occurred to him. He looked at the woman intently.

"Why do you agree to serve me? To let me stay here?" he asked.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know, I'm sure it has nothing to do with the usual death threats you give me on a daily basis."

Even without the obvious sarcasm, Vegeta knew that wasn't the truth, and Bulma knew it wasn't the truth either. Regardless of his extravagant threats, they both knew that if Vegeta so much as tried to scratch Bulma, Goku would blast Vegeta to the opposite side of the solar system to protect his friend. But it wasn't something Vegeta would ever admit, and Bulma would never dare to suggest it to him.

"That's not an answer," said Vegeta, a low growl in his voice. "What is the truth?"

Bulma looked at him now, and the confusion was obvious on her face. She hadn't been prepared for Vegeta's strange line of questioning.

"Well I don't know, I thought I could be helpful," she answered quietly, while picking absently at the threads of her cut-offs. "I mean, everyone else is out training, preparing to risk their lives to fight these ridiculous androids that are supposedly coming, and there's nothing I can do. Everyone's away, busy, and none of them seem to need or want my help for anything, except… except for you. And… and well, it's just…"

Bulma hesitated for a moment. She grinned uncomfortably as pink began to tinge her cheeks.

"What?" growled Vegeta, his dark eyes locked onto her, his gaze unwavering for even a moment.

"Well, it's silly," she began, still blushing. "But how could I not help you? You're… well you're a prince, aren't you? _Royalty. _I figure if there's anyone's worth any sort of respect and hospitality, it's probably royalty, right? But I don't know, I'm just being silly, really…"

The woman's explanation was not even remotely what Vegeta could have predicted, and he found himself unable to speak for several moments. _Did she really see him that way? _As a _prince? _No one… no one had ever cast him in such a light. As much as he had clung to the title, as fiercely as he had held to his pride and his royal, Saiyan blood, he had been treated all his life as little more than a third-class servant, mocked as if he were a fool and never revered as a prince. Any respect he had earned he had fought bitterly for, reminding people that he was a superior being only through the physical power he could wield and the pain he could inflict. But that had not always been enough… and certainly not to the tyrant who had ruled over him for the majority of his life, the despotic monster that had reminded him daily of his usurped power.

And yet… this woman. Why did she acknowledge his birthright? Why? Did she want something from him? What was it?

"You do realize I have no throne to ascend to, woman. No subjects to rule over," he said, perhaps more to himself than to Bulma.

Bulma tilted her head to the side in thought. "Well… no. And I guess for that reason you'll never ascend to be a king, huh. But that doesn't take away from the fact you were born a prince, does it? Why should anyone be able to take that from you?"

Vegeta was stunned where he sat. The words that came from the woman surprised him in a way he couldn't describe. It was like she had stared directly into him, gained some deep understanding of this glimpse of him… had figured out some small part that made him tick. The strange connection he suddenly felt toward her brought a dizzying blur of fresh confusion into his mind, a sudden rush of horror that she had seen into him, but also some sort of strange elation that filled him, burned through him inexplicably.

He felt hot again, uncomfortably so, and became nearly feverish when she looked over to him, her eyes connecting with his.

"I…" he began, but his words vanished in his throat, his mind losing track of his own sentence. He swallowed, and began again.

"…thank you," he murmured. "It is rare to be acknowledged for what I am, woman, and I… must thank you."

Bulma blinked, just as surprised as Vegeta was by this quiet, civil side of him that had suddenly emerged.

"Oh… you're welcome, Vegeta." she said, and her face lit up beautifully.

Vegeta looked at her. Perhaps in an entirely different way than he had before. He took in the sight of her completely, from her bright eyes shining even in the dim light, her dishevelled waves of blue hair framing her face, and her curved, human body, barely concealed beneath her garments, the sight of which taunted him more so now than ever. Her peculiar understanding of him had forged something strange between them, and Vegeta felt paralyzed with it. He felt himself staring at her exposed stomach, following the line of her abdomen to the hem of her shirt, the tiny garment clinging to her chest in the most revealing way… He found himself cursing her for the teasing amount of flesh she bared before him, and cursing himself for even noticing.

It left Vegeta in a thick haze, disoriented with heat, paralyzed by whatever spell the woman had cast upon him. He began to speak without realizing.

"And this is what you would wear in front of a prince…" he muttered absently, his gaze wandering freely.

Bulma raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly in bewilderment. "Vegeta?"

But her words were lost on him. Whatever was happening, Vegeta couldn't explain it, and nothing he could think could make sense what was happening to him.

Every time he was in the gravity room, Vegeta usually felt the same thing: the irresistible, mysterious force pulling him towards the floor, the burning strain in his muscles as he instantly rebelled against it, and the heated rush that came with being placed under such dizzying pressure.

And somehow, with the gravity generator broken, he felt a dizzying gravitational draw all the same. But it was different this time. He felt no pull towards the floor, but something was pulling him just as strongly.

And it came from the woman.

He felt his muscles tensing against an urge to move towards her, his eyes were fixed immovably in her direction, and a familiar, straining burn filled him— not in his muscles, but all through him, in some deeper, primitive part of him that had suddenly come alight.

He saw her move towards him, her head cocked with interest at his sudden behavior. The force pulling at him became almost unbearable, and he felt that they might somehow crash into each other. He tried to say something, to try and stop her from this impeding collision, but his mouth failed to move— and she spoke first.

"Vegeta..." Her voice was quieter than he expected, unusual. There was something there— an unease, an anxiousness, a plea— that he had never heard from her before.

Then she moved forward, curiously, and her hand grazed against his.

And suddenly, the collision about to happen between them became inevitable. The brief touch, the brush of skin… and suddenly Vegeta felt like he had been tipped over some event horizon, and everything was spinning into oblivion… everything spun toward her. And Vegeta couldn't escape the pull this time.

The Saiyan prince closed his hand around hers and leaned in towards her, closing the little space left between them. And unable to stop himself even if he had wanted to, his lips connected with hers.

He pressed himself to her, her lips crushed between his, his entire being delirious with the sudden rush of heat that coursed through him, the electric buzzing of pure sensation that set his nerves alight. Bulma emitted a noise of surprise beneath his mouth, her body stiff for the first moment from the shock, but Vegeta pulled her into his arms, and Bulma seemed to slacken against his bare chest. Her hands traveled over him, passing over his neck and finding a hold in the spikes of his hair, a low sound like a moan coming from her mouth. The sound spurred Vegeta into a near fever, and he growled as he pulled her tighter against his firm body.

Bulma's lips parted, and Vegeta tasted her more deeply, relishing the feel of her mouth on his and the feel of her soft, warm body pressing into the firm flesh of his chest. Her hands pulled tightly at his hair, and he responded by pushing her to the floor, his body following hers, and she was pinned there beneath the force of his kiss and the weight of his body. Bulma clung still tighter to him.

Vegeta pulled his mouth away from her to catch a breath and to drink in the sight before him, of the woman lying beneath him, her stretches of bare skin so tantalizingly pressed against his naked upper half. He couldn't believe or understand why he was doing this, that he was submitting to the infuriating pull of her body that had plagued him all day, but he didn't care. All he could think of and feel was the exhilarating fire that was coursing through him, and the violent want that suddenly ached to his core.

Bulma looked up at him, her eyes half-closed in some sort of bewildered state of bliss. "Vegeta…"

Her voice came in a breathy whisper that seemed to drive all sense from Vegeta's mind. He leant down, a feral growl emanating from within his throat, and he crushed his lips to hers once more. His body weighed down upon hers, and he shifted his knee to force her legs apart.

Bulma moaned against his mouth once more, and her hands travelled down from his hair and across the muscled landscape of his back, her fingernails digging into the skin as she moved toward the hem of his pants. Her fingers rubbed against the scar where his tail had once been, and Vegeta felt the breath escape his lungs as a strange pleasure exploded across his senses.

"Woman," he said hoarsely, and looked down at her, his black eyes shining with a desire bordering on madness.

"Vegeta, I…" but Bulma's voice trailed off weakly as Vegeta began to nip at her neck with his lips. She gasped and arched her body into his, and Vegeta lifted his head to look at her once more.

_I don't know what you've done to me woman, _he thought deliriously as his eyes burned into hers, _but I have no intention of stopping here. _

He looked at her for several long moments, their bodies so close that their hearts beat against the other's chest, Vegeta's hands tightly holding Bulma's arms to the floor, and his eyes seemed to burn with the obvious question.

"Oh Vegeta," she whispered. "Yes… yes…"

Her moaning whispers answered the silent question that hung between them, and she lifted her head this time to meet Vegeta's lips. The Saiyan responded in kind, drawing his body closer toward hers as he eagerly pinned her limbs to the floor.

Then, as Vegeta's hands began to wander down the skin of her hips and rest against the rough denim of her shorts, he couldn't help but smirk against her lips.

_Now woman, _he thought smugly to himself,_ let's finally dispose of this ridiculous garment, shall we?…_

_

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_

_end  
_


End file.
